


Tiny Little Kitten Paws

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Animal Play, Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:36:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete and Gabe and kitten play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiny Little Kitten Paws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lalejandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/gifts).



Pete's lying on the couch, curled up small around himself like he's holding a secret to his chest. His eyes are half-lidded, warm, fogged. Gabe feels warm, too, all through his chest, just watching him from the chair opposite. He's restless, his feet stuttering against the carpet and his fingers dancing against his laptop.

His guitar's lying on the floor, all locked up in its case, airport luggage-handler tape still wrapped around it. Pete got a little dramatic when Gabe showed up with it, said he didn't believe in having live music in his house anymore. "Not ever again," he'd declared, waving his hands around, while Gabe bit down on his tongue to keep from calling him out as a totally ridiculous person with absolutely no internal consistency. "The only music in here comes from a can," Pete said next, and that was so truly stupid that Gabe hadn't been able to keep from snorting and rolling his eyes.

"Fuck you," was the immediate reply. Gabe had seen that coming, and what came next, too: Pete retreating to the couch, all twisted up at first in outraged dignity, and then slowly winding down into this sleepy, only mildly grumpy mood that made Gabe feel stupidly warm and fuzzy. This is maybe Gabe's favorite version of Pete. It's a late model, a copy with a lot of edits and upgrades and tweaks built in. A boy made of patches. 

That sounds like something Pete might have written a long time ago. Not necessarily in a galaxy far, far away, though. It was still closer than that, but maybe through a looking glass. 

Gabe's philosophy tells him to live in the now. Roughly a third of the time he dismisses his own philosophy as bullshit, but today the now is pretty good. They've had their flare-up and now they are calm. The air is practically humming with the cautious contentment of the status quo.

Gabe closes the laptop and sets it on the floor. He looks at his hands, rubs them on his thighs, then folds them in his lap, trying to look casual, before he clears his throat to say the magic words. "You look like you're about to start purring."

Pete blinks at him, then blushes and ducks his head, and Gabe waits, counting off seconds while Pete struggles with what he wants and what he thinks he should want and what Gabe's offering him.

After a moment, Pete twists on the couch, turning from his side onto his back. He arches gracelessly off the cushions, his arms reaching up above his face, grasping for the ceiling, palms flat. He makes a sound that's not a purr at all, but somewhere between a squeak and a chirp. It's chest-clenchingly familiar to Gabe. Pete's half of the magic words.

"Kitty," he says, smiling. He can hear his voice change, rising up a solid fifth from its normal tone. "Kitty, kitty."

Pete arches more, his shirt riding up to expose another two inches of belly. He flops over onto his side again, body outstretched, his eyes wide and fixed on Gabe's face. He makes another sound, a chirp as close to a kitten's tiny questioning meow as a human throat can manage. Gabe knows what he means.

"C'mere, kitty. Let me pet you."

Pete considers him, then ignores him, turning his attention to passing his palm over his hair, smoothing it flat.

"Kitty," Gabe says again, more insistently. No response. Pete doesn't have the disdain that cat can summon, but the world-class indifference, that he can do. He brushes the back of his hand over his face, first one cheek and then the other, his tongue poking out of his lips in a tiny pink curve. Gabe loves him to a truly stupid degree.

Pete lifts his head and stares at Gabe as if he's only just remembered that Gabe's there. His eyes are wide and considering. Judging if Gabe's up to par.

"Good kitty," Gabe says, and Pete wrinkles his nose.

Pete slides off the couch a few minutes later, when Gabe has given up on asking him to. Of course; teaching him a lesson about who is in charge here. Pete crawls across the floor and rubs his cheek against Gabe's knee, bumping it hard with the side of his skull and then rubbing again. Gabe reaches down and skitters his fingers over Pete's head, feathering his hair. 

"Good kitty--ow."

Pete returns his hand to the floor with a look of satisfaction. Gabe rubs the little scratch marks running down the back of his own hand and tries to remember if you're supposed to smack cats on the nose.

"Manners," he says instead, making his voice stern. Pete looks away from him, dismissal clear. Gabe reaches down and grabs Pete's wrist, pulling his hand up so Gabe can examine it. Pete yelps, a thin scratchy sound, and tries to tug free, almost overbalancing himself. "Hold still," Gabe says, not releasing his grip. "Be good. I'm just looking at your paw."

Pete eyes him warily, and it's Gabe's turn to be dismissive. He studies the soft skin stretched over delicate bones. Pete's calluses are long gone. His skin is delicate and sensitive across the palm, where a cat's toe pads would be, letting him move lightly over the floor. Gabe runs his fingertips across Pete's palm and Pete quivers.

Gabe lets go and smiles at him. "Good boy." Pete licks the back of his hand before he puts it back on the floor, then pivots and crawls away from Gabe with outraged dignity in every line of him. The message is clear. Gabe sucks.

Gabe watches him patrol a circle of the room, ending up at the guitar case. He hesitates a moment, then rubs his cheek against it, claiming it as his, too. Unless Gabe is very much mistaken, and he makes it a point not to be, he'll be playing for Pete later, when he's a person again.

For now, though. He gets to his feet and steps carefully over the laptop, moving toward the hallway that leads to Pete's bedroom. "Come on, kitten," he calls softly. "Come nap with me."

Pete doesn't move at first, just stare at him with wide bright eyes full of love, but when Gabe starts down the hall, he can hear Pete follow.

**

Gabe wakes up to the feeling of Pete's tongue moving over his belly, licking steady and warm. He blinks and looks down himself, watching Pete's face as he listens to the wet slip of his tongue. Pete's eyes are closed, his forehead bunched in concentration. His skin is rough with stubble, his hair is flopping over his eyes, and he's steadily moving south toward Gabe's waistband.

"No sex while you're a kitten," Gabe says, his voice thick and rough with sleep. "Hard limit."

Pete stops for a moment, eyes closing tighter, then starts laughing. "Dammit, Gabe."

"I'm sorry, but you _know_ that's a rule." Gabe reaches for him. "Come up here."

Pete comes along willingly, leaning in for a kiss. "You're terrible. Breaking my scene like that."

"You've gotta respect my limits. Rules are rules."

"Yeah, yeah." Pete rests his forehead against Gabe's and breathes him in. "Sorry I was a dick earlier."

"Don't worry about it."

"If you want to play later, that's cool."

"I will demo your ass off." Gabe rubs Pete's back slowly. "I will demo you like you've never been demo'd before."

Pete arches up into the pressure, sighing softly. "Ryland already sent me the demos. But okay."

"These are my personal private demos. From my secret collection."

"I thought your secret collection was blackmail material." Pete rubs his cheek against Gabe's temple. It's still kittenish, but he's using words, too, so Gabe lets it go.

"Nude photographs and secret songs. It's a pretty awesome collection, you should take a look at it sometime."

"Next time we're at your place. Promise." Pete sighs again and opens his eyes. "You hungry?"

"Not too bad." Gabe traces his jawline and then taps his nose. "Boop." Pete makes a face and lunges at Gabe's hand, catching his fingers lightly between his teeth. "Gentle," Gabe murmurs. "Those are what make my money."

Pete lets go and sits back. "Thought that was your face."

"The moneymaker is my ass, everybody knows that." Gabe tugs him in again. "Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere." Pete rolls his eyes, smiling. "I'm right here."

"Good." Gabe takes Pete's hand and threads their fingers together, pleased with how small Pete's hand looks next to his. "Look at your little paws."

"Gabe."

"Tiny little kitten paws."

" _Gabe_." Pete laughs and pulls his hand free, shaking his head. "You suck."

"Not until after you buy me dinner." Gabe waggles his eyebrows at him and dodges Pete's attempt to smack his face. "Be nice or I won't play my songs for you."

"You will, too. Don't front."

"Don't steal my lines." Gabe tugs Pete down against him and wraps both arms around him, holding him close. "Kitty kitty."

"I'm not a kitty right now," Pete reminds him, kissing his throat. "That was your idea, so we can fuck."

"That's right." Gabe slides one hand down to pinch Pete's ass. "My ideas are awesome."

Pete shakes his head and grins. "Sure. Keep thinking that. I love you too."


End file.
